


Grey Area

by SushiOwl



Series: Black, White and Grey [3]
Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Demon!Stiles, Demonic Possession, M/M, Magic, Pre-Slash, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 18:56:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/969136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SushiOwl/pseuds/SushiOwl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean interrogate the demon, and things get a little crazy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grey Area

**Author's Note:**

> Direct sequel to the first two parts in the series.
> 
> Spoilers for the finale of season eight of Supernatural.

“You all need to leave. I don't know what these hunters are going to do when they inevitably find out we're werewolves,” Derek was saying, his arms crossed over his chest. He was standing in the kitchen area of his loft with Peter, Isaac and Cora. The Winchesters had called Chris Argent to say they were less than half an hour away and to get a status update on the demon.

“I don't want to go,” Isaac said. “It doesn't feel right to run away when there could be a fight.”

“A fight is more likely if there are more things to shoot at,” Derek countered, and Isaac looked like he wanted to say something else, but Derek cut him off with a look. “Leave, Isaac. I'm serious.”

“Fine, but I won't go far,” Isaac told him stubbornly.

“None of us will,” Peter said in agreement. He hadn't elaborated on why he'd tried so hard to save Stiles before, and Derek hadn't asked though he wanted to. After all this was done, they could talk.

“Howl if you need us, big brother,” Cora said, stepping forward to wrap her fingers around his. Derek squeezed them back with a nod.

When they were gone, Derek went back out into the living area, finding Scott back on the stairs with Allison. “I guess there's no way I can convince you to leave too?” he asked, and Scott just gave a single head shake. “Yeah, didn't think so.”

Derek looked over at the demon, who was sitting in the middle of the trap now, picking at the black scabs on his arm in boredom and making blood slowly ooze out of the wounds again. Derek wanted to leap on him, pin his arms to the ground so he couldn't do anymore damage to Stiles's skin. The only kind of scars Stiles was supposed to have were ones from just being his stupid self, from playing Lacrosse or burning himself when he was trying to make food for his father. Stiles's arm would never be the same, and Derek didn't want him to look down at it and remember that a demon had taken his body for a joyride.

“They're here,” Chris said from his place by the window, and Derek moved over to look out.

A beautiful black car, an Impala from the '60s Derek thought, pulled up in front of the building. Two guys got out, looking around the area in such a paranoid way that Derek could relate. For a pair of dudes that were hunters, they looked very much like they felt they were being hunted. They moved around to the trunk, obscuring them from sight for a couple minutes before they closed it and marched toward the entrance of the building.

When there was a pounding on the metal door, Chris held his hand out to Derek, stopping him from going before he moved to answer it himself. Once he slid the door open, he greeted the other two hunters with kind words and handshakes. Derek listened carefully, but he couldn't really tell much about them other than that their accents said they were definitely not from California.

“Oh good, it's the Winchesters,” the demon said as the hunters moved into the room. “This is kind of like meeting two celebrities, but forgive me if I don't jump up and down like a groupie.”

The hunters looked at him then at each other. “Right,” the shorter of the two said. It wasn't that he was actually short, but he was dwarfed when compared to the other one, who was massive. He looked around at everyone. “What's with the gathering, Chris?” He had a duffel on his shoulder, and he set it down at the door.

“Don't ignore me,” the demon complained with a pout. “Aren't I the reason you're here?”

“Oh, this is Alan Deaton. He's a kind of adviser of things paranormal,” Chris said as if the interruption hadn't happened, gesturing to the vet, who gave a curt nod. “And this is my daughter, Allison, along with her boyfriend, Scott. And that is Derek. This is his loft. They are all friends of the boy that the demon is possessing.”

“You guys are rude knuckle-draggers,” the demon went on.

The tall hunter gave them a smile, unfazed, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. “I'm Sam, and this is my brother, Dean.”

“I'm going to start singing some Miley Cyrus in five seconds,” said the demon, narrowing his black eyes at the Winchesters.

Dean walked right up to the trap, and the demon scuttled backward until his back hit the invisible wall behind him. The hunter pulled a flask out of his jacket, unscrewing it and splashing the demon with a liquid that caused his flesh to sizzle and a terrible scream to be torn from his throat. “Shut up,” Dean said.

“Please don't kill him,” Scott cried, ripping himself away from Allison and hurrying over to the hunter. “Please, he's my best friend. We've known each other since we were eight. He's—he's like my brother.”

“Kid,” Dean said, looking pained, before he glanced at the demon and back. 

“He's not a kid,” the demon hissed, scrubbing at his face. “He's a werewolf.”

Dean's face changed, going critical as he stared at Scott. Derek lunged forward, coming to Scott's side. “So am I,” he told the hunter, who took a step back when faced with the both of them. “But we don't hurt people.”

Dean looked at Chris. “You couldn't have warned us about this?” 

The older hunter didn't reply.

Sam moved up next to his brother. “How did you become werewolves? Who turned you?”

“I am born wolf. Scott was turned, but we dealt with that werewolf on our own,” Derek told him, and that was the honest truth. Well, it was about as honest as he could be under the circumstances. 

“Uh huh,” Dean said, flicking his eyes between them, before he looked at Chris again.

“They're telling the truth,” Chris said. “They don't attack humans unprovoked.” His eyes landed on Derek for half a second, before going back to the other hunters. 

If there was ever a time for Chris to suddenly turn on Derek in the name of his wife, it was now.

“They're not telling you the full story,” the demon said. “They may have dealt with the other werewolf once. In fact, Derek slashed his throat and killed him, his own uncle. But then he came back to life. Ever since then he's been kind of like the little devil on Derek's shoulder.”

Derek pulled his lips to the side. “He hasn't hurt anyone since he came back. I have him under control.” Mostly. Kind of.

“That's some family dysfunction if I've heard some. Sam and I can relate.” Dean sighed heavily through his nose, before he glanced at the demon, who was still smoking faintly. “Look, we didn't come here just to kill the demon. We need information.”

“What does that mean?” Scott asked.

“It means,” the demon said, getting to his feet. “They're going to torture me. And they don't care if your little friend dies in the process.”

Derek immediately moved between the hunters and the demon, and Scott moved with him in perfect tandem. “You're not going to do that,” he growled, very close to wolfing out. The only reason he didn't is because he wasn't sure how armed these hunters were.

Scott looked desperate. “Please, you can't just take Stiles away from us. He was salutatorian in high school. He's studying criminology at college. He wants to someday be a cop, maybe even a sheriff like his dad!” He held his hands out. “He's got his whole life ahead of him.”

“Look—“ Dean started to say, but his brother grabbed his arm around tugged him back, giving him a significant look. There was a kind of silent communication between them for a minute, subtle changes in expressions that only two people that knew each other to the core could read. Finally Dean sighed and tugged his arm away.

Sam turned a grave face toward Derek and Scott. “We understand that he's important to you, but you don't get the stakes here. Heaven and hell were at war, and now heaven is gone. He need to know what hell's forces are going to do so we can get one step ahead of them.” He took a step toward them, but Derek and Scott pressed in closer together, shoulder to shoulder, like a barricade between the hunters and the demon. “We'll try to keep the physical damage minimal.”

“Yeah, I'm not really feeling reassured right now,” Derek deadpanned, fully ready to stand between these guys and Stiles all day.

“That's because he wants this body pretty so he can fuck it later,” came the demon's voice from behind him.

Derek felt color come back to his cheeks as everyone looked at him again. That was one way to break the tension.

Dean lifted his brows, before he cleared his throat. “Well, that's a detail I didn't need to know. Look guys, we're very good at what we do. We can probably get what we need to know out of this demon like that.” He snapped his fingers. “So let's all just take a chill pill here and relax, okay?” He went for a smile, but just like his brother, it didn't light up his eyes the way a sincere one did.

“Derek, Scott,” Chris said from behind the Winchester brothers, moving around them to touch Scott's arm. “I won't let them hurt Stiles. If you don't trust them, then trust me.”

Even as Scott eventually relaxed and moved away, going back to Allison, who wrapped him in her arms, Derek didn't move. He didn't trust these guys, didn't like the look in their eyes. It was like they had seen heaven and hell and everything in between and they didn't see people anymore, just bodies to drop. They were as close to soulless as he had seen in a human. They were terrifying. 

“Derek,” Chris said again, gripping his arm and trying to pull him away. “Come on.”

“He's part of my pack,” Derek found himself blurting out. “He's human and he's an annoying little shit, but he's still one of us.” He didn't move, keeping Dean's gaze until the man nodded once, then he allowed Chris to pull him away, over by the stairs.

“Right,” Dean said, moving over to stand at the edge of the trap and smile in the most unfriendly manner at the demon. “So, you know us. And you know our reputation. How about we skip the foreplay, and you just tell us about what hell is planning to do now that heaven is out of the game?” 

The demon stared at him, playing at unimpressed, but there was a set to his jaw that belied his fear. “What happened to your pet angel, Dean?” he asked, low and soft like he cared.

Dean's face dropped into something deeply unamused. “You're not the one asking questions here.”

“Is he dead?” the demon went on to ask, tilting his head to the side.

Derek could hear Dean grinding his teeth together, upper lip twitching into a distasteful curl.

“He probably is, you know. I bet he fell out of the sky like the rest of them and burned to nothing.” The demon put his hands on his hips, face splitting into a grin. “Must hurt to lose the only other living thing beyond your moose of a brother that can stand you.”

Dean glared at him for a couple seconds, before he let out a humorless laugh. “Is this high school? You're going to throw pointless insults at me—for what?—to make me cry and run away so I won't torture you? That's cute, but not very original. You're about the five hundredth demon to try to get under my skin. Guess what, buddy.” He threw his hands out to his sides. “Not gonna work.”

The demon made a face at him. “Go ahead and do your worst then. There's only so much you can do without damaging this body beyond repair, and you know it.”

Dean tilted his head a little, before he grabbed the flask from his jacket again and stepped right into the trap. He grabbed the demon's hair as he shrieked and jerked his head back, pouring into his mouth and causing his cries to turn to gurgles with bubbles and steam. Then Dean stepped right back out again.

The demon coughed, rubbed his throat, before he hissed at Dean like a cat. “You know, I won't be able to talk if you liquify my vocal cords.” 

“Don't be a baby, you're fine,” Dean said easily as he walked over to duffel, rummaging through it and pulling out a set of chains that gleamed so brightly that they must have been silver. He handed one end off to Sam, and they pulled it taut, walking over to the demon, who backed up until he couldn't.

They wrapped the demon up, and where the silver touch him, smoke billowed up and his flesh sizzled. They bound his arms and wrapped the chains twice around his neck, locking them at the back of his head with a heavy padlock. The demon screamed, dropping to his knees once they released him, and it wasn't a human noise. 

“Now we'll take that off when you tell us what we want to know,” Dean told him as he walked around the outside perimeter of the trap.

Every muscle in Derek's body was poised, ready to pounce on the hunter the moment he went too far. He could feel Scott was in the same boat, practically vibrating with tensed energy on the stairs as Allison held his hand. Even Chris, his hand still on Derek's arm, was ill at ease. Derek could tell that whatever impression that Chris had gained from these guys all those years ago when they worked together was crumbling before his eyes. 

“Why would I tell you jack shit!” the demon cried, voice hoarse. He shouted when he got splashed again, right in the face.

“Because the moment you do, the pain stops,” Dean told him.

“Right, because you're going to kill me,” the demon gasped, arching back as he tried to lift his arms, fingers spread out wide as his skin burned and smoked.

“Tell me hell's new plan!” Dean barked right back.

“The new plan is the old plan!” the demon roared, voice bouncing off the walls and the windows and causing dust to fall from the windows. “We're going to open all of the demon gates and flood this world with darkness until there's nothing left but fire and blood. And this time there are no angels to stop us!” He struggled back to his feet, baring bloodied teeth at the hunters. “Go ahead and send me back to hell so I can tell them where you are and bring an armada down on your heads.” He snapped his head to look at Derek and the others. “All of you!”

“Yeah, that's not going to happen, asshole,” Dean growled, pulling a rather wicked looking knife out of his jacket.

“No!” Derek was across the room in a second, grabbing onto Dean's wrists and tackling him to the ground. The human gasped as the air was knocked out of him, before his eyes widened when he saw Derek's face, fangs bared and eyes a bright blue. 

Scott was on Sam in almost the same instant, pushing him up against the wall and trapping his hands while growling, eyes red.

Derek looked over at Chris. “Free him!” he shouted, and the human didn't hesitate, lunging forward and scuffing his foot on the floor to break the line of the trap.

The demon opened his mouth, head snapping back and letting out a horrible, ear splitting scream, and black smoke poured from his lips like a flood. The smoke shot up, going for the vents, but then it stopped, swirling along the ceiling.

“What the hell?” Dean asked, still under Derek as he watched.

Deaton was chanting, low and almost unintelligible, but his voice rose as he stared up at the cloud, his irises burning. He held up a jar, painted with small symbols that were glowing gold, brighter and brighter as Deaton's voice upped in volume. The black cloud funneled down like a tornado, loud and violent, and filled the jar. Deaton quickly capped it, screwing it shut, and the smoke turned to ash as the symbols dulled back to black.

Derek let Dean up, and Scott moved away from Sam as everyone turned to face Deaton, matching looks of wonderment and confusion on every face. Deaton looked at all of them than at the jar in his hands. “Well, I wasn't actually sure that was going to work.”

“What are you?” Dean asked, dubious.

“A veterinarian,” Deaton replied with a smile.

“You need to teach me that,” Sam said with a laugh.

Derek wasn't concerned with whatever just happened, not now. He and Scott moved over to Stiles, who was lying so very still in the middle of the broken trap. As Scott pulled him up into his arms, Derek ripped the lock off and started unraveling the chains, freeing him. The burn marks on his arms and neck were terrible to look at, but they weren't fatal.

“Stiles,” Scott said, holding him against his chest as he supported the back of his head with his hand. “Stiles, wake up.”

Stiles made a little noise, blinking his eyes open slowly and looking at the two of them. He swallowed, before he winced at the pain it caused. “Shit,” he whispered, his lips barely moving. “Anybody get the license on that semi that hit me then backed up a couple times?”

Scott let out a little laugh, and Derek sighed in relief. Stiles was going to be just fine.

“Here, bring him to the couch,” Deaton said after he handed off the jar of ash to the Winchesters. 

Derek put one arm under Stiles's back and the other under his knees, lifting him up. Stiles's eyes went a little wide, but he leaned into Derek's chest, gazing up at his face as he was carried. Derek let the corner of his lips quirk up just enough to show Stiles that he was glad he was okay.

As Deaton was treating Stiles's wounds with the medical supplies he'd brought with him, everyone else was standing around the door as the Winchesters were preparing to leave.

“Well, this has been an interesting experience,” Sam said as he stared down at the jar in his hands.

“What are you going to do with that?” Chris asked.

“No idea,” Sam admitted with a shrug. “But we'll figure something out.”

“What about the whole flood of demons and fire and blood thing?” was Scott's question.

“You leave that to us. Stopping the end of the world is kind of what we do,” Dean told him with a nod.

“If you need some help, you have my number,” Chris said.

Dean and Sam looked at each other, before they looked at Derek and Scott. “Yeah, we're probably not going to do that,” Dean said, before he did a snap and point. “Thanks though. Take care.” They turned, Dean hefting the duffel onto his shoulder and Sam holding the jar like it was a treasure, and went out. 

Derek shut the door behind him, heaving a sigh, and he was so glad to have things back to normal. 

“Ow!” Stiles whined from the couch where Deaton was swabbing his arm. “Be nice. I was just possessed.” 

Well, this was as normal as things ever were for Derek.

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to end it here, but there will be one more part. :D
> 
> Next: Derek and Stiles have a chat.


End file.
